The Heart of The Ponderosa
by TracyLeeT
Summary: A short story about family and tradition.


The familiar groan of the third step shattered the pre-dawn silence. Slowly, Ben turned from the window, drawn from the budding Ponderosa sky to the stirrings on the staircase. Smiling, he set his delicate cup on the dining table, lowered himself into his chair, and eagerly awaited the early morning greeting.

"I didn't expect anyone to be up at this hour. Everything all right, Grandpa?"

Ben nodded. "Oh, everything's fine, sweetheart. Long as I can remember, I've always been an early riser."

As she took a seat, Beth Ann smiled, dubious of her grandfather's explanation. She rested her elbow atop the table and peeled back the blanket wrapped around her two-month-old son.

Ben leaned forward, his chocolate eyes glistening.

"Little Paul must take after his great grandpa. He has yet to let his mama sleep past five in the morning."

"He's a born rancher." Ben reached across the table and slipped his finger into the tiny fist.

Little Paul held on tight.

"That's quite a grip, young man. Seems to me Grandpa Joe had one just like it when he was your age."

Beth Ann's hazel eyes twinkled. "I can't imagine Papa ever being this small."

"Oh, he was, sweetheart." His eyes clouded, his mind drifting to another time. "Joseph may have been little in stature, but that boy of mine's been formidable since the day he was born."

"Papa's a good man, a good father. I don't know what I would have . . ." she stroked Little Paul's cheek, "what we would have done if Papa hadn't been there."

Ben slipped his finger free of his great grandson's grip. Tenderly, he placed his hand atop his granddaughter's. "Joseph wouldn't have been anywhere else." He wiped a teardrop from her cheek. "I know how much you miss Mark."

Beth Ann held his hand against her face. "I know you do. The hurt never goes away, does it?"

Ben rubbed his thumb against her face. "No, it doesn't. When someone you love passes, it never gets better, it gets different. Your husband was a remarkable man." Ben smiled, his eyes sparkling. "He was smart enough to choose Ben Cartwright's first-born granddaughter, wasn't he?"

Beth Ann smiled as a whispered sob escaped her lips. "That he was, Grandpa. That he was. I just wish . . ."

Seconds ticked by in silence, voices held captive by emotion.

Ben swallowed. "You wish . . . You wish he'd lived to see Little Paul."

Beth Ann nodded. "You understand, Grandpa."

"Yes. I do."

Little Paul wriggled and cooed and Ben's heart skipped in delight.

Beth Ann squeezed Ben's hand. "Thank you, again, for letting us stay here, Grandpa."

He patted her hand. "Nonsense. As I told your father, the Ponderosa is always here for this family. There's plenty of room, and if not we'll add on, as we have over the years. When your father and mother moved in, we had five bedrooms. That was more than enough for the three of us. Then your brothers came along, and the house was full. Your father was building a sixth room when we got the news that another baby was on the way."

"That was me."

"Yes, it was. So, Joseph kept on building and when he was through, this house went from five bedrooms to eight!"

"Grandpa, I always wondered why Papa added three rooms instead of just two."

Ben stared across the way, but his thoughts were in the past.

"I'm sorry, Grandpa. Did I say something wrong?"

Ben blinked, his welling eyes spilling lingering tears.

"Grandpa?"

"It's all right, Beth Ann. That extra room, well, it was ready and waiting, just in case." Ben forced a smile as he looked at his granddaughter. "Rooms and furnishings are not the heart of the Ponderosa."

"Love is." Beth Ann stood and moved to Ben. Leaning slightly, she kissed her grandfather's cheek, and placed Little Paul in Ben's arms. "Eggs and ham for your birthday breakfast?"

Ben's eyes brimmed again. "Sounds fine, sweetheart."

As Beth Ann disappeared into the kitchen, Ben's eyes drifted down to the wiggling bundle in his arms. "Your mama is going to make breakfast, and once the rest of the family gets a whiff of her cooking, they'll come thundering down those stairs just like . . ." Ben gazed at the empty staircase across the room, "just like your grandpa and Uncle Adam and Uncle Hoss used to."

A tiny arm poked free of the blanket, and Little Paul stretched and yawned.

"Are you getting sleepy already?"

Little Paul grunted.

Ben grinned. "Well then, what say I tell you a little story?" His voice was soft and lilting. "Before this house was built, before the Cartwrights owned the smallest parcel of the Ponderosa, your great Uncle Adam and your great Uncle H . . . your great Uncle Hoss and I and traveled a very, very long way, over mountains and plains and deserts and pastures to settle here, in the west. Along the way, we stopped from time to time, just long enough for your great grandpa to earn a little money to buy food and supplies."

Little Paul squirmed and grumbled.

"That's right. Your uncles and I built a lot of campfires on our journey. We had to cook our food, just like your mama is doing in the kitchen now. When you grow big and strong, your Grandpa Joe will teach you to build campfires."

The baby's fists settled against his chest. His eyes grew heavy.

Ben, his voice soft yet animated, smiled down on Little Paul. "Uncle Seth and Uncle Roy will be here this afternoon. They're your mama's brothers. Your Grandpa Joe taught them to make campfires when they were young. They're bringing their families with them, and this evening, we'll all be together . . . those who are . . ."

Ben's voice caught in his throat. He tried once, twice to continue. He held the precious baby closer, protected in his arms. He closed his eyes, willing the tears to subside.

Little Paul cooed softly.

Ben opened his eyes, studying the baby as if seeing him for the first time.

The baby's eyes widened and he cooed again, a passionate coo that made his tiny body shiver with the effort.

Ben nodded. "Seems I took at bit of a detour from my story. Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Your great uncles and I arrived in what would become Virginia City. We stayed in our wagon for a few days, and I rode the countryside looking for just the right place to build our new home. On the third day, I rented a small buggy for my boys and myself, and do you know what happened?"

Little Paul's eye opened and closed heavily.

"When we rounded a large grove of the most majestic pine trees I'd ever seen, I stopped the buggy. Your great Uncle Adam jumped down, easy as pie, ran just beyond the trees, and shouted . . ."

"We're home, Pa."

Beth Ann appeared at Ben's side and scooped Little Paul into her arms, a knowing grin on her face.

Ben stood, his mouth agape. He grabbed his cane and made his way toward the front door. The voice he'd heard haunted every step. Could it be? After all these years, could it be?

Ben's eyes clouded at the sight before him and, had it not been for his cane, he'd surely have dropped to his knees. "Adam?"

Flanked by Seth and Roy, Adam stood in the doorway. "We're home, Pa. Happy birthday."


End file.
